by Evelyn Glass
“Okay,” he said as he accelerated around the building and paused before turning out onto the main road again.
Douglas was a bit of a Mecca for riders in the Pacific Northwest. Near the Siuslaw National Forest, 630,000 acres of forestland crisscrossed by dozens, if not hundreds, of roads that rose and fell as they twisted and turned through the mountains and valleys, Douglas was a natural stopping point. Riders flocked to the area to ride the roads and watch the whales.
Because of the constant influx of riders, a thriving industry had built up in town catering to the bikers, in addition to the whale watchers and the dune riders. Douglas lived and died on its tourist industry, so no potential went untapped.
Most motels were motorcycle-friendly and several motorcycle speed shops had opened in town. The Cutthroats were well known by riders who came to Douglas and so long as the visitors didn’t act the fool, everything was good, but one word from the Cutthroats and bikers could find the town, and its hospitality, were closed to them.
The police were aware that, often times, business owners called the Cutthroats if they were having problems with bikers before they called them, but so long as the Cutthroats were only dispensing friendly advice, they appreciated the help.
“So basically, the Cutthroats are like the first line against problem bikers?” she asked as he explained it to her.
“That’s one way you could put it, I guess.”
“And you do that for free?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Why? Isn’t it obvious? We live here. We ride motorcycles. We don’t want people from out of town causing problems for our friends and neighbors, and we want to keep the town motorcycle-friendly. It doesn’t cost us anything, and if the bikers want to be the assholes, we simply call the cops and let them deal with it.”
“How often does that happen?”
“Not often. Once or twice a year, maybe. Most people come back year after year and are no problem. Especially after we warn them what will happen if they keep on. But every now and then…”
The more he talked, the better she liked him and the Cutthroats. She’d sworn off bad boys and motorcycle clubs, deciding she wanted to date accountants and computer programmers from now on, but if the bad boys could actually be the good guys, like Dix and the Cutthroats, maybe she wasn’t quite ready to give that up after all.
He curved the Harley into another motel and putt-putted through the parking lot, but there were no bikes. “Breakfast?”
“I thought you’d forgotten.”
“No, I didn’t see any reason to backtrack out here since we were passing them on the way to where I want to go for breakfast. It’s where most bikers go.”
They stopped in a place that looked like a Denny’s, or some other converted chain store, whose parking lot was full of bikes of every make and description. They took a couple of slow passes through the lot as she looked the bikes over.
“I saw one that looked like Leo’s, but it wasn’t,” she said pointing. “Leo’s doesn’t have the backrest thingy.”
“You sure?”
“Positive, unless he added it in the last couple of weeks.”
Dix wheeled the bike around and backed into an available space. “We’ll check it out once we get inside. If you see him, don’t do anything. We don’t want him to know you’re here in case he puts two and two together.” They stepped in the restaurant, joining the rest of the people waiting for a table. “See him?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you go to the restrooms, back that way,” he said with a nod, indicating the larger of the two rooms.
“Good idea.”
Daisy made her way to the back, washed her hands, then returned. “I didn’t see him.”
“Not over there either?”
“No.”
He relaxed. “Okay. We’ll hang here for a couple of hours until the breakfast rush is over.” They had to wait twenty minutes, and pass up two tables, before the one Dix wanted opened. They sat so she had a good view of the door.
They were done eating, but taking their time, patrons still arriving, though the crush was passed. “So tell me, Dix, why are you the only one of the Cutthroats that rides a Harley?”
“Because I have more class than those other jokers.”
She twittered out a laugh. “Really?”
He chuckled. “That’s part of it. I just like the look of the Harley better and since I ride a Switchback, I can put the windshield and bags on mine, or take them off, as the mood and need dictates. The crotch rockets those other guys ride, they’re for one thing only: going fast. But they all have cars. I don’t.”
“Your motorcycle is the only wheels you have?”
“Yep.”
“What do you do if it rains?”
“What do you think? I get wet.”
“Oh, a tough guy. I get it,” she said with a grin.
He smiled. “If you want to look at it that way.”
“How do you get groceries home? Stuff like that?”
“I haul what I need on the bike. I don’t cook, so not much need to lug groceries. If I need to haul something that won’t fit on the hog, I can use the yard truck.”
She nodded in understanding. “Cheaper than a car, I guess, if you can make it work.”
They sat, taking up the table and talking, for almost another hour until the influx of customers had slowed to a trickle. Finally, Dix scooped up the check, holding up a finger in playful warning as she opened her mouth. “I’ve got this.”
She smiled and nodded. “Thank you again.”
They strode out, Dix sliding on his shades as she pulled hers out of her purse and did the same. “I see we have the same taste in eyewear,” he said as they arrived at his bike. What he didn’t say was the aviator style glasses looked a hell of a lot better on her than they did on him.
“So I see.” She turned away and began to put on her helmet lest her see her color rise. This was the first time she’d seen him with sunglasses on and he was fine! The pirate on the back of his jacket with the dagger in his mouth seemed to fit him perfectly.
They spent the next two hours hitting motels in the area, but she saw nothing or no one who looked familiar. They were on their way to the next stop when it began to rain. It started out as a few drops, but in moments it was coming down in buckets. She huddled in close to him, but there was no avoiding the cold rain and she was soaked through in seconds. She refused to complain, but with the wind created by the bike at speed and the wet clothes, she was shivering almost instantly.
He could feel her shuddering at his back but there was nothing he could do at the moment. He was fine, used to being wet and cold, plus his jacket helped shed some of the water, but she had no such protection, or as much meat on her bones. Another mile on, they pulled into the motel and creeped around the parking lot.
“No,” she said, her voice quivering hard as they slowly cruised past a group of Harleys.
Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he pulled back onto the 101 and headed back the way they came. As he reached the edge of town he peeled off the main road and then moments later, turned into a WalMart.
“Go inside. I’ll be there in a moment,” he said as he pulled to a stop in front of the entrance. He watched as she scurried inside, visibly shaking.
She was standing just inside the door, still shaking when he entered, squeegeeing water from his hair as he entered. “Come on, let’s get you dried off before you freeze to death,” he said as he took her arm and led her inside. He led her directly to the women’s section and parked her in front of a shelving unit of jeans. “Pick out what you need.”
“I-I-I can’t” she stammered.
“Why?”
“Be-Because I don’t have the money.”
“Don’t worry about that. Just pick out some clothes. I’m going to go get a towel and I’ll be right back.”
“Dix, I can’t let—”
“Would you rather freeze?”
“I-I’ll be okay.”
“Bullshit,” he muttered softly. “Just pick out some clothes,” he ordered then stepped away without a backwards glance. Three minutes later he was back with a white towel.
“You going to wear wet underwear?” She grimaced and added a package of underwear and socks to the pile. “Wait here,” he said as he walked away.
It took him a little longer to check out, but he returned with the clothes. “I just bought these,” he said to clerk manning the changing rooms, handing her the receipt. “She’s going to put them on and wear them out.”
“Thank goodness,” the clerk said unlocking a room for her. “I was freezing just looking at her.”
“I’ll pay you back,” she whispered as she took the clothes from Dix.
“We’ll worry about that later. Go change.”
She stepped into the room and stripped out of her wet clothes. The moment she dried off, she felt warmer, sighing in relief as she slipped into the new underwear, pants and shirt. Her bra and shoes were still wet, but she was much warmer than before.
The moment she stepped out, her wet clothes in the bag, he draped his jacket around her. It swallowed her, but it was warm with his body heat and felt wonderful. Another shudder passed over her as the dry clothes leeched the chill from her body. He took the bag and she pulled the jacket around her, breathing deep, unable to remember the last time anything felt so good.
“Come on, let’s get some hot food into you,” he said, leading her to the front of the store.
It was still pouring outside, so they had a gourmet meal of McDonald’s Quarter Pounders with cheese and fries in the small restaurant tucked inside the store. By the time she was nibbling on the last of her fries, she felt almost normal.
“I don’t know how you stand it,” she said as she returned his jacket to him. “I was so cold my fingers wouldn’t work and I almost couldn’t get my shirt off.”
“I’m sorry. We should have come in your car.”
“It’s okay now, but if you weren’t freezing your ass off, you’re a lot tougher than I am.”
“I was a little chilled,” he admitted.
She giggled. “A little chilled?”
“A little. But you were freezing. I could feel you shaking.” He gave her a sideways shrug and a small smile. As she sat there, she could feel a warmth spreading through her. Where Leo wouldn’t have given a second thought to her being cold, Dix had taken care of her, getting her out of the rain as soon as reasonably possible and buying her dry clothes. She could feel tears forming in gratitude and she looked away from him, blinking to get control of herself.
“Are you okay?” he asked as her eyes filled with tears.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“What?”
“Why are you being so nice to me? Buying me dry clothes, paying for my meals.”
“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t I? I was afraid you were going to die of hypothermia.”
“That’s what I mean! Why do you care?”
He couldn’t understand what she was driving at. Had her husband been so uncaring to let her suffer? “Because, Daisy, I didn’t want to watch you shiver while you froze, not when I’m the one who caused it.”
“I have to go to the restroom,” she said, rising quickly and walking to the back of the store before he saw her cry.
***
CHAPTER EIGHT
After several minutes Daisy hadn’t returned, so he rose and went to the women’s bathroom. He waited long enough that anyone in there should be finished before he pushed the door open. “Daisy?”
“Go away!” she snapped when she saw him.
Her eyes were red and puffy, and she’d obviously been crying. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he stepped into the room.
“Nothing! Everything! I don’t know!”
He didn’t know what to do, so he took her into his arms and held her. “We’ll get Riley back. It’s almost stopped raining and we can start looking again.”
Her arms went around him. He felt so warm and his hug so gentle; she began to cry again. “It’s not that. Well it is. It’s everything. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why you’re being so nice and helping me. Nobody has ever helped me before, not without wanting something in return.” She sniffed, laughed wetly, then sniffed again. “I’m one messed up chick, huh?”
He stood her up and looked at the scratches on her head and the nasty bruise and scrapes on her arm. “No. I think you’ve just forgotten what it’s like to not have to do everything yourself. Not everyone wants something from you.”
She looked up and met his eyes. “That’s what I don’t get,” she said softly. “You don’t even know me and yet you took a day off from work to help me, a perfect stranger. Why?”
He shrugged. “Because you needed help. Because you helped us. Do I need another reason?”
“No,” she said softly.
The bathroom door opened, a mother stepping in with a young girl before stopping and looking at him in surprise, turning to the door to make sure she was in the right bathroom.
“We should go. Pardon us,” Daisy said as she stepped past the woman, wiping at her eyes.
“Are you okay now?” he asked, pulling her to a stop in the back of the restaurant while they still had a little privacy.
“Yeah, I think so. I’ll send you money for the clothes as soon as I can, I promise.”
“Okay,” he said, not wanting to set her off again. That seemed to satisfy her and she gave him a ghost of a smile.
“Sorry for the scene.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” They returned to their table, picked up the bag of wet clothes, and stepped outside. Typical of Oregon weather, the rain was gone and the sun was breaking through the clouds. When they reached his bike, he opened one of the bags and she dropped the clothes in before they started out again.
***
Dixon was ready to call it a day. They had visited every motel and bar in town and come up with nothing. It was possible they had just missed Leo, if he was actually in town, but they couldn’t spend days riding around aimlessly on the off chance they might bump into him.
He was willing to try one more time tomorrow, starting on the north end of town and working south, but if they came up empty again, they were going to have to wait until the Firechrome made their move. If they were going to make their move.
He felt bad for Daisy. She had started out the day bubbly and full of enthusiasm, but as it wore on, he could see the life draining of her. Maybe Leo and the Firechrome and, by extension, Riley, were never in Douglas in the first place. Bad for her but good for the Cutthroats. But if the Chromes weren’t in town, who took the shot at Kevin?
He shook his head. It didn’t make sense. It was almost three and his bike was running on fumes, again. He pulled into a gas station and switched the bike off, sitting on the machine a moment after Daisy stepped off before dismounting.
“We have been at this for almost seven hours. I think it’s time to throw in the towel. Maybe we can hit a few of the restaurants bikers like to frequent around dinner time, but other than that, I don’t know what else we can do,” he said as he swiped his card and began filling the Harley.
“I understand,” she said softly.
“We can try again tomorrow.”
“Okay, thank you. But what if we don’t find anything tomorrow?”
“Then I think you may need to consider your information was wrong.” He saw her lips go thin. “I know that’s tough to hear. But if Riley isn’t here, you’re wasting your time.”
“I know, but I don’t know where else to look.”
He shook his head in understanding as the pump clicked off. “Maybe we’ll get lucky tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” she said just as Dixon’s phone began to ring.
“Dix,” he said as he pulled the phone out of his jacket.
“Dix, where are you?” Cale asked “Is Daisy still wit
h you?”
He pressed the button to put the phone on speaker. “She’s right here. Why?”
“I just got a call from Randy Wells. He said some bikers came in and were asking a few too many questions.”
“Were they Firechrome?”
“He doesn’t know. They weren’t wearing their colors if they were.”
“What kind of questions?”
“The kind he didn’t want to answer. He’s pretty nervous. Can you take Daisy over there and let her look at the security video and see if she recognizes anybody?”